Chapter 2 Chapter 1

Montreal, Quebec, Canada

I stared at the coffin at the back of the chapel. The door, half open, let the cold wind cut through the room. The place was in an almost unbearable silence, only broken by someone sniffing or a stifled cry.

But I didn’t care about that funeral. The man inside was the one who sent me to a boarding school at thirteen, left me without looking back. Now, ironically, I’m here, ready to take the empire he built.

I saw my mother in front of the coffin, trembling as she cried. My sister was stroking her back, trying to calm her down. I crossed my arms, clenched my jaw and felt my jaw ache. My eyes scanned the entire place. Nothing held me there.

I let out a heavy sigh, my shoulders relaxed. I got up from the bench, passed through the door, took a lighter from my pocket, and lit a cigar. I took a deep drag. The smoke burned my throat before leaving through my lips.

I slowly went down the steps, the wind messing my hair and bristling my neck. I leaned against a cold column, closed my eyes for a second, and listened to the echo of the empty speeches inside. People pretending to feel something for him, when what mattered was the money, the title, the power. The rest was just acting.

I gave a half-smile. I felt no weight at all. I was more than ready to take what was mine by right.

It wasn’t long before two men came out of the chapel toward me. I kept smoking, releasing the smoke slowly.

"You really came. I’m Salvatori, and this is Enzo," one of them said.

"Right," I answered without taking my eyes off the cigar.

"Aren’t you going to stay inside, Don Moretti?"

"No," I said firmly.

Don Moretti. A title I will carry easily, it even sounds good.

"Right. The funeral service will start soon," Salvatori said. "And, of course, here it is, what belonged to the Don now belongs to you."

He took a ring out of his pocket and showed it to me. I held the cigar with one hand and took the ring with the other. I examined the object for a few seconds before putting it on my finger.

The two men followed me as the funeral began. A fine drizzle started to fall.

"That one there is Viktor, your father... They've been fighting for years," Enzo said quietly.

I looked at the man in the black suit, thick beard, and some gray strands in his hair, walking toward us.

He greeted me quickly, without looking into my eyes. I already knew what I would do with him.

"Arben Krasniqi sent flowers for the funeral, and Jaxon Blackwood wants to set a meeting to talk business, now that you are the Don." Enzo continued, but I wasn’t really listening. My attention was on Viktor.

I stepped away from the henchmen. Enzo stopped talking and looked at Salvatori, who started following me as I approached my mother.

I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Ciao, mamma."

She gave a weak smile and hugged me quickly, then stepped back.

"Ciao, tesoro mio. Sei venuto, non ti ho visto là dentro."

"Sono solo andato a prendere un po' d'aria, sai come sto ai funerali" I answered, my voice firm.

I approached my sister and hugged her.

"Ciao, sorella."

She smiled, relieved.

"Che bello che sei venuta."

I looked at the coffin that was beginning to descend. I brought the cigar once more to my lips, took a drag, and glanced sideways to see my mother wiping her tears with a handkerchief.

As soon as the coffin started to be covered with black earth, I stepped away. I dropped the cigar on the ground and crushed it with the sole of my shoe. Salvatori and Enzo walked beside me as I headed to the car.

The days turned into weeks, and finally, six months passed since I took over my father’s legacy.

I bought a mansion away from the city. I needed peace. The silence was almost absolute, only broken by the sound of crickets at night. It helped me think. My mother and my sister...

They insisted on staying in an apartment downtown. I thought it best not to argue.

I visited the Hotel Palazzo Moretti for the first time. The place was the largest in the city, five stars, full of important people and celebrities. For them, a symbol of luxury; for me, just another way to launder money.

I decided to open a small winery, Cantina Reale. There was no decent wine around here, only some watery crap. I was going to show what real wine was, put my name on it too. I ran my fingers over my chin several times as I looked at the first bottles ready, thinking about how to expand.

Gradually, I started gaining recognition. But there were still people who looked at me sideways for being young. Many underestimated me.

I needed more than respect. I needed to be feared. I needed more power.

And now, I had another plan in mind.

Ciao, mamma.

"Hi, mom."

Ciao, tesoro mio. Sei venuto, non ti ho visto là dentro.

"Hi, my dear. You came, I didn’t see you in there."

Sono solo andato a prendere un po' d'aria, sai come sto ai funerali.

"I just went to get some air, you know how I am at funerals."

Ciao, sorella.

"Hi, sister."

Che bello che sei venuta.

"How nice that you came."